Sanity
by Lady Merlin
Summary: Or the Lack of it. Written before I discovered SonxAkk. Don't eat me. SoneaxRothen. Please don't kill me. Rothen feels sick.


This story runs in conjunction with my only other Black Magician Trilogy fanfic, so, yeah. I mean, you don't have to read it or anything, it's just a sister story. :D:D I own no one. Enjoy!! This one is (controversial to the plot line!!) about Sonea and Rothen. (people gasp. Throw rocks) me: ignores. Flames are for toasting marshmallows. :D:D

Rothen growled. Or moaned. Or groaned. Or whatever the sound of extreme frustration and despair was called. He had always hated languages. He was going crazy. That was all there was to it. He was going mad. His sanity has slipped. He'd lost some screws. He'd gone off the deep end. He was so deceased. (Mwaa! Count Olaf used it in the movie a Series of Unfortunate Events!! So cute!!)

In his mind came another flash of _her_. His beloved ex-novice. Who was now apparently beloved for more then being his novice. Ex-novice. Whatever. He glared at the bottle of grey powder in his hand, as if it was to blame. "stupid nemmin" he mumbled, before sliding the bottle under the couch. He hoped he was drunk enough to not remember where he had put it the next morning.

Approximately ten minutes later, he bent down, took the bottle out from under the couch, pondered for a second, before tipping some into his hand and dry-swallowing it. It was crazy, possibly suicidal, but then again, what did he care?

(A/N: Ok, as it turns out I've decided to change Rothen's character. Who knew?)

He hurt, on the inside. It felt all soft, and squooshy inside his stomach. Or where the general public took the stomach to be. Originally, the stomach _had _been there, but had transposed due to the excessive need of the large intestine due to changes in diet… huh? He had no idea what he was thinking. (P.S. ppl, don't take what I said above to be true. I just pulled it out of the air. Chocolate does that to a person)

Anyway, where was he? Ah, yes, the hurting. And normally, he could handle hurt. Physical, mental, you name it, he got it. He'd had more then enough of it as a boy. Anyway, argh. He hated digressions. Digressing. Whatever. But as it turns out, he was digressing as it was. Life was just too complicated. (A/N: am I annoying anyone here? Sorry!)

Ok. To the point. Several years ago, when Sonea was no longer a girl, no, she wasn't a boy either. Wait. He's no idea where that had come from. Probably the stress of hiding Tayend's and Dannyl's secret relationship. Argh. Ok. No more digression/ing. When she was no longer a girl, but a young woman, he'd began noticing things about her. Like the smooth shape of her body, the delicately formed silhouette. Like her beautiful petal-pink lips. Her huge almond shaped eyes. The golden glow of her skin. But he was a dirty old man. Disgusting in all aspects. What would Dorrien say?!?! The horror of it all.

He began to feel all weird around her, weird while thinking about her, weird when she looked at him, weird when her name was said around him. This wasn't a bad type of weird, but it definitely wasn't good. What was it that Dannyl had said? Something about the natural order of things… oh who cared. He knew what he was talking about. And he realised, that for some reason, he felt kinda like when he'd first met his wife, only, well, stronger. This. Was. Bleeding. Gross. He would NEVER forgive himself. EVER. Bad man. Bad.

Rothen collapsed on the couch. He didn't think he was drunk. He hurt too much. He did, however, wish he was dead. It would at least provide him some relief. He took a deep breath and sent a pulse into himself, checking, and healing any intoxication. He felt a bit better.

He pulled out some paper work. And then looked at his room. It was a mess. Worse. It was hell. In some sort of depressed cleaning frenzy (it's what _I _do, so, there) he tidied up as best he could. He then sat down to his paper work again. And felt something wet on the paper. He instantly looked up at the ceiling. Nope, nothing there. Hmmm. He looked down. There was definitely a wet splodge on the page. He dried it quickly. Another one. It was coming from his eyes. Oh great, he tried to think angrily. But all that came out was a great big sopping mess. Well. It was like sticking your finger in a hole about the size of your head and hoping to stop a bit of the flood, but getting swept away instead. Sighs. He rubbed his eyes. He felt like some inexperienced child. Some idiot who had no control. But then again, he didn't have control over how lovely she was. ARGH STOP.

He shoved all the papers to a side and made another drink of Nemmin. He didn't know what to do. What? There was nothing controlled by him. What could he possibly do? Maybe, all he could do was accept it.

Okay, abrupt end, and I know, it's nothing we expected, but nevermind that. I've just discovered Sonea Akkarin, so I feel sick even continuing this. :D:D R&R!!


End file.
